by Sandra Heath
Lord Benjamin stared at him. “Eh?”
“Perhaps it would be more accurate to say she wishes to start again. You see, I believe she has reconsidered the advantages of becoming Lady Benjamin Beddem.”
“Maybe I don’t want her anymore,” Lord Benjamin replied churlishly and emptied his glass.
“I concede that Polly herself may not be to your liking, but what of her fortune?” Hordwell ventured.
Lord Benjamin got up to replenish his drink, then looked at the other again. “I say, Hordwell, if she is coming around ...” he murmured, stroking his chin, which had yet to be shaved.
“Oh, she is, I’m sure of it. In fact, she intends to send you a note of some sort, by way of an olive branch. She trusts to see us at Sydney Gardens tonight, and I think you may be sure of a gracious and encouraging reception.” Hordwell got up painfully from his chair and grasped his walking sticks. “Dear heaven, I think the cure has made me worse, not better,” he muttered, smiling at the other. “My dear sir, you know what women are, their minds are in all directions at once, but then, they are the weaker sex.” Determined to glance inside Lord Benjamin’s dressing gown pockets as he passed, he made his way uncomfortably toward the door.
“The weaker sex? That’s true,” Lord Benjamin replied, not noticing the surreptitious inspection.
Hordwell paused at the door, feeling a little foolish. What point was there in just looking for the missing belt—it was invisible! He’d have to feel around for it, and certainly couldn’t do that in the pockets of a dressing gown Lord Benjamin was wearing. He’d take himself up to the fellow’s bedroom and try there. But only if Benjamin intended to stay down here.
From high on the pelmet, Bodkin continued to watch him. The brownie’s curiosity was now truly stirred, because he had observed the old man’s interest in his host’s attire. Why on earth would Hordwell be interested in Lord Benjamin’s pockets? And why was he standing by the door with such an odd expression on his face?
Hordwell cleared his throat. “I say, Benjamin, are you about to have breakfast?”
“Eh? No, I had mine served in my room. What I could eat of it. Why do you ask?” Lord Benjamin looked inquiringly at him.
“Oh, nothing.”
Lord Benjamin grinned. “Hordwell, old friend, your news about Polly has made me feel so much better that I think I will dress and go for a stroll. But first I’ll have another glass.”
Plague take the fellow, Hordwell thought, for the belt was bound to go out on the walk as well. But he said, “Oh, how excellent. Well, I think I’ll go and sit in the garden.” Then he hobbled out.
Bodkin had already clambered down the curtains and slipped from the room with him. The brownie was astonished to hear Hordwell muttering under his breath. “Curse the villain for deciding on a walk!” He then made his slow way along the passage toward the door to the gardens, and Bodkin followed, determined to find out what was going on.
In the library, Lord Benjamin waited until he heard the garden door close, and then rang for a footman. The sound of a bell aroused Ragwort briefly from his sufferings. The brownie looked blearily around, wincing as his poor head thumped relentlessly.
A footman came quickly. “My lord?”
“I want you to go to the White Hart and secure one of their fastest post chaises for an hour after nightfall. It is to wait by the canal at Bathampton. Is that clear?”
“By the canal at Bathampton, an hour after nightfall. Yes, my lord.”
“And tell them I wish refreshments to be provided in the vehicle, for I intend to make a long journey.”
The footman bowed and withdrew. Lord Benjamin then raised his glass. “Why wait upon a woman’s caprices, eh?” he murmured, and drained the glass in one gulp.
Ragwort’s wits weren’t sufficiently about him for the significance of what he’d just heard to make sense. He longed for sleep to make his headache go away, so he shuffled into a more comfortable position on the pelmet, lay on his side, and put his hands beneath his head.
Chapter 35
It was an hour before sunset, and Polly was still in her room with the curtains drawn. She had been there ever since Georgiana’s departure, and at first had wept heartbroken tears into her pillow. Just after noon, a maid had come to the door to tell her Sir Dominic Fortune had called, but Polly had declined to see him. He’d sent the maid back twice, but in the end had gone away. After a while Polly’s tears subsided, and now she lay gazing at the leafy shadows moving against the curtains, but the dappled light reminded her of the diamonds in Georgiana’s betrothal ring. She felt so terrible that she no longer knew if she could even attend the Halloween celebrations, let alone carry out the plan regarding Lord Benjamin. She didn’t want to face anyone right now, not even her uncle. She certainly didn’t want to encounter Dominic or Georgiana—that would be too much.
She got up and went to the washstand to dab cold water on her face. Through a crack in the curtains she saw that the sunlight was now rich and golden, tinged with the first hint of crimson, signifying the gradual closing of the short October afternoon. There was about an hour of daylight left. Perhaps a little fresh air would restore some of her courage, she thought, and went to the wardrobe to take out her cream silk gown, gray velvet spencer, and the pink straw hat that providentially had a little net veil to hide her tearstained face. When she was ready, she picked up the pink pagoda parasol, intending to raise it the moment she was in the gardens. If held at a calculated angle, it would provide another shield from curious glances.
She emerged from the hotel and set off up the broad walk toward the classical temple at the top of the gardens. The orchestra was having a final rehearsal, repeating a portion of Handel’s “Royal Fireworks Music” until the lead violinist was satisfied. Shadows were very long now, and autumn leaves rustled beneath her shoes. A group of gentlemen laughed together as they played bowls on one of the greens, and she could hear the thud of hooves on the rides. The royal pavilion was fully erected and ready, its golden tassels shining in the slanting sunlight. The bonfire was complete, too, but there was still occasional hammering from the complicated fireworks scaffolding. The display was clearly going to be splendid, Polly thought, watching as a man held a lighted taper to a rocket in order to check that it went off at the correct moment and angle.
But as the rocket soared skyward, then exploded with brilliant lights against the copper and crimson of the sinking sun, it wasn’t a firework that Polly heard and saw. Instead, the noise became the cannon reports at the review, and the lights were Dominic’s smile as he accepted her offer of a lift in her carriage. Fresh tears pricked her eyes, and to quell them, she hastened on, trying to push all images of Dominic from her mind.
Minutes earlier, as Polly dressed to go for her walk, Bodkin had hurried along Great Pulteney Street. He was accompanied by his bees, which flew above the chimneys so as not to attract any attention. He’d given up trying to ascertain what Hordwell was up to, and since there was still no sense to from Ragwort, the brownie was going about his private plans. Reaching the hotel, he hurried through to the gardens before Polly came down. He led his insect friends to the tallest tree, a beech that stood almost in the center, and as they swarmed busily against one of the topmost branches, the brownie grinned. “That’s my proud beauties,” he muttered approvingly, before turning to retrace his steps to the hotel, intending to visit Polly for a while. Almost immediately he saw her familiar pink parasol bobbing up the broad walk toward him. He was about to greet her when he saw how upset she was. Wondering what was wrong, the brownie allowed her to walk past him without making himself heard or seen. Last night she had been so happy, and when Dominic had kissed her good night at the hotel, her joy had been palpable. Now she was crying. Why?
Unaware of the brownie, Polly tried to focus her attention upon anything and everything except Dominic. She saw preparations for some of the traditional Halloween games that were played by only children and young men, ladies seldom deigning to stoop
to such undignified exuberance. The games included ducking apples and candle circles, and divining hazelnuts that sometimes exploded very dangerously. There was also the equally hazardous sport of revolving rods, which had an apple at one end and a lighted candle at the other. The object was for a circle of players to jump up and catch the apple in their teeth without becoming splashed or burned by the candle. Many a nasty injury was acquired this way, but that did not seem to lessen the popularity of the game.
At another game, that of plunging one’s head into a half barrel of water, in order to pick up with one’s teeth the prizes at the bottom, two street urchins hung around looking decidedly furtive. Suddenly both thrust an arm into the barrel, snatched prizes, and then ran for all they were worth. The splash of the water in the barrels aroused another memory, of a rainswept night and Dominic’s strong arms as he lifted her from the water butt. Her lips quivered, and more tears sprang to her eyes, so again she hurried on, Bodkin following with increasing dismay.
The music from the hotel balcony had faded now, and music of a different sort drifted across the gardens. The morris dancers were rehearsing in a grove opposite the temple, and Bodkin watched as Polly observed them for a while. He could see how deliberately she had lowered her veil, and how quickly she adjusted her parasol if anyone came near. He hated to see her this unhappy, but couldn’t think how best to approach her. Sympathy often made tears worse, as he himself knew only too well when she had comforted him about Nutmeg, so he bided his time, hoping an obvious moment would present itself.
Together yet apart, Polly and the brownie continued to watch the dancers, whose bells jingled and ribbons and feathers fluttered as they twisted and turned to their age-old dance. The gold of their costumes was quite dazzling, as was the magnificent hobbyhorse, which made splendid equine noises as it cavorted around. Tears fell on Polly’s cheeks, for instead of morris music, she heard the ball at the Assembly Rooms, and felt Dominic’s lips upon hers behind the ferns.
She turned quickly away and walked around the temple to look at the labyrinth. Because a maze was bound to be popular on such a night, it had also received decorative attention. She knew from a hotel maid that the entrance had become a ghostly place where hidden men would wail and rattle chains, and that further in it was swathed with fine white muslin to look like the webs of huge spiders. The spiders themselves were fixed in such a way that they would swing down into people’s faces should the muslin be touched. More men in flowing robes were to be stationed at various points, ready to jump out with horrible moaning sounds when anyone drew near. Jack-o’-lanterns with green candles inside them were placed everywhere, and in the very center—if anyone proved stout enough to get that far—there was a coffin from which a terrible fiend would rise like an ancient Egyptian mummy come to life. But as Polly stood outside, looking at the tall clipped hedges, all she could think of was how Dominic had kissed her.
She was crying now, and dabbed her cheeks with her handkerchief as she hurried on up the slope toward the bridges and canal cut, where there were fewer people. Surely there couldn’t be anything here that would make her think of him! She reached the first bridge and stood at the top of the arch to watch the water below. Many of the little pleasure boats were in use, and they too had been made ready for the night ahead. Jack-o’-lanterns sat on poles at their stems, black wooden witches on broomsticks at their prows, and muslin had been draped over their canopies to completely enclose those inside. More lanterns had been suspended from the bridge, and in a very short while now their reflections would shimmer in the dark shining water.
Bodkin drew near and sat on the top of the retaining wall, still watching her. Something made him glance around, and he saw none other than Dominic walking purposefully toward the bridge. “Now we’ll see what’s what,” the brownie muttered, plucking a blade of grass and twirling it attentively. Polly was too deep in thought to be aware of anything. She had managed to contain her tears a little, and now turned her parasol unhappily.
“Well, you’ve run me a merry dance today, and no mistake,” Dominic said softly to her.
Chapter 36
Polly whirled about to see Dominic standing on the bridge behind her. He was dressed in a charcoal coat and cream breeches, with a green silk waistcoat, and an emerald pin glittered in the folds of his neck cloth. A silver-topped cane swung in his gloved hands, and as he had removed his top hat, the breeze riffled his dark hair. His eyes were quizzical as he awaited her response.
“A ... a merry dance?” she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.
He was too close for either the veil or the parasol to conceal the marks of her tears, and he looked at her with swift concern. “Polly? What’s wrong? What’s happened? Is it Beddem?”
She drew back. “No, I haven’t seen him. I... I’ve sent the agreed note, though.” Oh, why hadn’t she stayed safely inside?
He came nearer. “Why have you been crying? Has someone hurt or upset you?”
“It’s nothing.” She turned quickly away to look at the canal again.
“I don’t believe you, Polly. We had an arrangement to meet at noon, but you didn’t come, and when I called at the hotel, you refused to see me, not once, but three times. So I came back to try again and was informed that you’d been seen coming out here for a walk. I think I deserve an explanation, don’t you?”
This was too much! She turned sharply to face him again. “No, sir, I don’t. After what you’ve done, how dare you demand an explanation!”
“After what I’ve done? Polly, I really don’t understand.”
“I think it best if we are a little more formal from now on, sir. First names seem singularly inappropriate, if not downright improper.”
“Well, I don’t agree. Damn it, Polly, this is stupid! If I’m supposed to have done something, the least you can do is tell me what it is, then maybe I can put things right!”
“You can never put this right.”
He came to stand next to her and placed his top hat and cane by his feet. Then he took her gently by the arm and made her turn to face him. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this, Polly. Tell me what it’s about, or so help me I’ll pursue you everywhere until you do!”
“You already know what it is!”
“Look at me, Polly. Do I seem as if I know?”
She searched his face, still so beloved in spite of his cruelty. The sunset shone in his eyes, like the fires of passion, except that it was Georgiana who would know his kisses from now on. “Why do you seek to humiliate me even more?” she whispered.
“Humiliate you? Polly, I would rather die than do that,” he said softly.
“Is that why you’ve bragged about seducing me? And why you’ve asked Lady Georgiana to be your wife?” she asked.
He stared at her. “Why I’ve what? Polly, I’ve never bragged about seducing you, I wouldn’t stoop to such a base thing! As to proposing to Georgiana, I assure you that nothing could be further from my thoughts.”
“But, she called upon me and said—”
“To Hades with what she said. She’s furious because she was given her congé this morning.”
“But she’s wearing your ring!”
“Three diamonds?”
“Yes.”
“Her mother’s.”
“She ... she said it was your mother’s.”
He shook his head. “To my knowledge, it has been in the Beddem family for two centuries. Believe me, her visit to you was an act of pure spite because I would not take her back.”
“Take her back? But I thought she sent you away in favor of Lord Algernon.”
“She did, but she now professes to have undergone another change of heart.”
Polly was silent for a moment as she tried to keep hold of a myriad of thoughts at once. Had he really given Georgiana her congé this morning? Had that lady’s visit really been an act of spite? What if he was the one being untruthful?
He raised her veil suddenly and looked deep int
o her eyes. “Why do you always doubt me, Polly?”
“Because you toyed with me before, in the labyrinth, and then at the Assembly Rooms. You promised to reveal the truth of your kisses at the ball. Instead, you gazed adoringly at Georgiana and bestowed upon me a glance so cold that my rejection seemed clear enough.”
“I saw how warm you and Beddem appeared to be, and drew the wrong conclusion. I admit to behaving badly, but shortly afterward, you also behaved badly, with Hightower.”
She colored, recalling how she’d turned her face toward Lord Algernon during the cotillion.
“How tellingly you blush.”
“I... I concede that I was unwise with the marquess, but I only did it because I was so hurt by you. That doesn’t excuse it, I know, but it is why I behaved as I did.”
“So we both reacted foolishly. Polly, I thought I explained myself later on, and that you understood why I’d been so haughty ...”
“Oh, yes, you explained, but so much that you say is ambiguous. You hide behind such a sophisticated screen that I cannot tell if you mean anything. I am a fool for even entertaining warm thoughts of you. For instance, you say you gave Georgiana her congé this morning, yet only a day or so ago you told me how much you loved her. And yesterday you wrote her a very warm letter.”
“Letter?” For a moment he was puzzled, but then his eyes cleared. “Did she let you read it? I thought not. Polly, if she pretended it was a love letter, she lied, for it merely informed her that I accepted that my liaison with her was over once and for all. It was couched in friendly terms, for I saw no reason to be disagreeable, but what I really wanted to write was that I was so disenchanted with her atrocious behavior, that I could barely feel civil toward her. So there you have the very unambiguous explanation. The contents certainly were not what she led you to understand, and she is in my past now. I mean every word of this, and am not hiding behind any screen, sophisticated or otherwise.”
